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Friday, September 13, 2013

Gallaudet's Architecture Satisfies the Senses

I've heard it said before that our
senses can actually limit us more than they help us. For example, the
Who's famous rock opera, Tommy,
expresses that life without sight, sound, or speech leads to
enlightenment, and in one of my favorite childhood books, A
Wrinkle in Time, a sightless
character from another galaxy is vexed by the reliance of humans on
their senses, claiming that they seem so constricting. Recently,
architect David Lewis proposed that our senses have lowered our
expectations for the quality of space in which we live and work.

Lewis
is the lead architect at New York City-based LTL Architects and is at
the front of Gallaudet University's newest residence hall. Gallaudet
is home to almost 2,000 students who are deaf or hearing impaired, so
it was important that the new hall follow the design principles of
DeafSpace, an initiative created in 2005 by architect Hansel Bauman
to develop architectural guidelines that improved interactions
amongst the deaf community. DeafSpace's design elements address space
and proximity, sensory reach, mobility and proximity, light and
color, and acoustics, all of which can be issues for the deaf.

You
wouldn't notice right off that the residence hall was designed
specifically for deaf students. The first thing you might notice is
how open and well-lit it is, or you might see that your skin has a
healthy glow to it rather than the somewhat greenish tinge it takes
on in white rooms with florescent lighting. Then you might say, “Wow”
and notice that in spite of the open space, your utterance did not
fly across the room in echo. Wouldn't it be nice if this were the
case every time you walked in a building?

These
appealing examples are the results of very intentional design choices
to make Gallaudet's new dorm more accessible for its residents. Here
are some of the key features of the building:

The
community room on the ground floor has sloped ceiling that aligns
perfectly with the inclines ground outside, and the wall is
essentially a giant window. This way, people inside and outside the
building can communicate with one another via sign language.

Similarly,
the centrally located stairwell is transparent as well. Rather than a
separated cement staircase (like, for example, the one in Neuberger
Hall), this one is open, well-lit, and in the middle of the room,
allowing for easier communication.

The
12-foot-wide hallways are twice as wide as standard halls.

The
hall's kitchen has all appliances concentrated to an island in the
middle so that students don't have to have their backs to one
another.

The
interior colors (red, yellow, green, and steel blue) were chosen to
enhance natural skin tones in order to make facial expressions easier
to read.

The
ceiling is paneled, and an acoustic blanket sits under the concrete
floor to enhance and tighten acoustics. This reduces the
reverberations that can mess with hearing aids and, consequently,
keeps voices from carrying across a room.

Unfortunately
there were not enough funds for a huge skylight, but hey, maybe
someday!

So
here's what I'm thinking: Why aren't all new buildings following the
DeafSpace guidelines? I think it sounds pretty good! It seems our
senses let us build these obstacles—like dark, narrow halls and
stairwells—simply because we can get around them without too much
struggle or complaint. But why not make our space more beautiful,
intuitive, and accessible for all people?